Present Tense
by talkofcake
Summary: At the end of the world, Carter steps through the gate and into a new reality.
1. Chapter 1

_** you are the only thing that makes sense // just ignore all this present tense_ **

In one reality, she's Colonel Samantha Carter. In another, she's Dr. Samantha Carter. In some, she's still a Major, while in others, she's been promoted to General.

In this one, the one she finds herself in at the end of the world, she's Colonel Samantha O'Neill.

She blinks three times, hard, and tries to make that make sense in her mind. Even after that third take, it still doesn't sound quite right to her.

It doesn't sound wrong either.

She finds her identity out when the wormhole disengages behind her, boots clamoring on the metal ramp, and a familiar voice booms through the gate room.

"All teams to the embarkation room! Colonel Samantha O'Neill, drop your weapon!"

Or _embarkation room_, apparently.

She follows his order, like she always has, and sets her zat down. Metal clanks against metal.

He's there, staring at her from above with a barrier of glass failing to hide the thousands of emotions that sweep over his face. She stares back, ignoring the dozens of soldiers aiming their weapons at her.

She's recognized as a threat. It's standard military procedure. She wonders what gave it away. Was it the hair this time? Because something tells her the lack of ring on her finger would have gone unnoticed.

He ceases his scrutiny of her from above and snaps into action, bolting from his seat and descending down the stairs. Blast doors slide open and he strides in with ease that tells her, even in this reality, age hasn't stopped him from doing his job and doing it well.

"Sir..." she murmurs, and he flinches at that, pausing several feet away from her to re-begin his scrutiny of what she can only assume, judging by her surname, are familiar features.

Samantha _O'Neill_.

It still doesn't sound right.

"Carter."

She tries to read his face, but the dizziness, malnutrition, and pure exhaustion of her former life are hindering her ability to even stand before him. How the hell is she supposed to try and understand why there seems to be pain on his face at the sight of her?

"Sir, I... the Ori. They destroyed everything."

He sets his jaw as he undoubtedly processes that.

"Carter," is all he says. His brows narrow and for a moment she wonders if he's going to cry.

She's a genius. Despite the world ending just seconds before she stepped into a new one, it doesn't take her long to figure out why he's looking at her like that.

"I'm dead," she breathes.

He doesn't nod, doesn't respond, and she doesn't expect him to. She's dead to him. And the irony of it all is, he's dead to her too.

Her entire reality is.

She thinks she knows what Dr. Samantha Carter felt like seven years ago when she and Kowalski fled from their universe to hers.

He finally orders his men to lower their weapons.

She notices he doesn't have any stars on his uniform.

Time moves like slow fluid around her as she's escorted out of the room and to the infirmary, where she'll sit in a level three lock down until Dr. Lam has cleared her with all the routine tests. The whole time, he'll be above her room, silently scrutinizing the features of a dead loved one once more.

Samantha O'Neill.


	2. Chapter 2

She awakes to a stinging in her arm where her IV is inserted.

Dripping, beeping, low murmurs. More dripping. She tries to sit up but her head spins, and she finds herself flat against the pillow where she started.

His hand reflexively finds her shoulder.

"Sir," she whispers, clamping her eyes shut as she fights off the nausea.

One, two, three. Three deep breaths. Three seconds to force away the haziness and bring forth some clarity. It's not that with sleep she's forgotten she shouldn't even exist in the reality she's currently in, or that the one she came from has been wiped out completely, but she does need to remind herself the warm hand on her shoulder doesn't belong to the man she knows.

Knew.

"Carter," he whispers in return. "Stay still."

And she isn't his Carter.

_His_ Carter.

She licks her lips, swallowing hard against a scratchy throat. Willing to take a chance against the glaring lights and her unsteady equilibrium, she slowly opens her eyes once more and blinks him into focus. He's leaning over her at the side of her bed, a mixture between pain and concern etched into his features.

"Doctor," she hears him say, and Dr. Lam rushes over and immediately checks her vitals.

"She's stable for the time being. Malnourished and suffering from sleep deprivation, but that's nothing we can't fix."

Lam gives her a warm, almost familiar smile.

Sam's head pulses.

"Water," she manages, and she's not sure who raises the straw to her lips, but it seems to be there before she's even muttered the request.

She drinks. The liquid burns her throat. Her head pulses some more.

Why does her arm still sting?

"You should get some more rest," he says.

His voice almost sounds detached. Almost. There's an ounce of affection there that she somehow understands won't banish in all this confusion.

She doesn't argue with his suggestion, but there is one thing she needs to know. Something that's plagued her since the gate--embarkation room.

"You still call me Carter," she mumbles as coherently as possible, and ignores the fact it was intended as a question and came out very much a statement. He flinches and she realizes her other mistake.

"Her, I mean. You still call _her_ Carter."

There's a long pause as he examines her with sad eyes.

"I guess some things never change."

**

The next time she awakes, she soon discovers she's been out for three days; partially because Dr. Lam has kept her on low doses of sedatives while her body recovers, but Carter figures there's only so much of an apocalyptic lifestyle one can take.

Day one (which is technically now day four) of her recovery is spent doing nothing but lying in bed.

There's no sign of the General.

Day two of her recovery, Dr. Lam removes her IV and suggests she try to eat something that isn't from a tube. Carter lifts a spoon of broth to her lips and sips the liquid, but her stomach turns and she vomits.

By day five she can finally stomach liquids.

There's still no sign of the General.

Day seven results in three bites of toast, some juice, and a brief glimpse at newspaper headlines.

Day eight, she swings her legs over the bed and lets her toes touch the cold floor. She almost gets up, but Dr. Lam immediately is by her side and ushering her back into bed, insisting she's going to need to be able to eat more solids before she can attempt to walk.

She takes another bite of her toast and pushes her food away.

On day nine, she stands up with the assistance of the doctor, and her wobbly legs carry her all the way to the bathroom where she relieves herself in a way that doesn't involve a catheter for the first time in almost two weeks.

Day ten, she cries.

Where is he?

Day eleven, shaky hands dress herself and still weak legs carry her out of her room and down the hall. Dr. Lam catches up with her and insists she not go much farther. Sam waves her off. She's survived the end of the world, what's a walk through the SGC?

The layout is similar, but there are slight differences. The walls are a bit darker, and in a few places there's a dead end where she distinctly remembers taking a right. Nevertheless, she easily enough navigates her way to a door she's looked upon more times than she count in the past.

The door doesn't say _General_, but she's too tired to wonder.

She raises her fist to knock and realizes she doesn't have enough strength. Instead, she leans against the door and kicks it with her boot.

"Come."

After a moment, the door finally opens and she falls forward into his arms, spent from her journey. He is about to lift her when she shakes her head and pushes back against him.

"Don't bring me back to the infirmary," she pleads. "Please."

He contemplates her.

"You're still recovering."

"I just want to go--" She stops herself, biting her lip.

He looks at her with a furrowed brow and lips formed into a thin line.

"I'll have some quarters set up for you," he says, and leads her to a chair where he sits her down before moving to his phone.

She feels her head spin slightly as he makes the call.

_Where were you_, she feels like asking. But some things are better left unanswered.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack has walked by Colonel Samantha Carter's quarters at least a dozen times, just like he wore a hole in front of her hospital room the days prior.

He's been trying to make sense of all this ever since a ghost stepped through the gate a little over two weeks ago. He never really grasped alternate realities, even when Carter had been nice enough to break things down into terms he could understand. But it wasn't the science he had trouble wrapping his head around for once in his life.

Some lines just weren't meant to be crossed.

Which is why, the thirteenth time he pauses by her door in the past two days, he can't bring himself to knock. He'll send by Lam to check up on her later.

He trudges back to his office and slumps down into his chair, feeling weary, heartbroken, and worn inside and out, just like he did after the explosion three years ago.

_"Carter!"_

_"Jack, someone has to do this. Now get out of here while you have the chance."_

_"I give the orders around here."_

_"Not any longer. Remember?"_

_"Carter, you can't--"_

_"Goodbye, Jack."_

_"Carter, NO!"_

Pain stabs his heart and he sets his head in his hands, before jumping up in a fury and chucking a paper weight from his desk. It collides with the wall by the door, and another ghost with perfect timing ducks out of the way. Jack collapses again.

"What do you want, Daniel."

"Jack. Nice to see you, too."

"What are you doing here?"

"I guess I thought that would be obvious."

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened."

"No," Daniel agrees, hesitantly making his way into the office. "No, that's true. We've had encounters with alternate versions of ourselves before, but not since--"

"And why the hell do you think that would make a difference?"

Jack whips open a desk drawer and pulls out some files, shuffling them around. Daniel leans over and picks up the paper weight. He fumbles it in his hand until he decides to approach the desk.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"That's so apparent," Daniel says, dropping the weight onto the desk before Jack.

He doesn't look up from the paperwork he pretends to be doing.

"Again I ask, what the hell are you doing here?"

"You're not the least bit happy to see an old friend? It's been a while."

"You practically disappeared off the face of the Earth," Jack scoffs.

"I've been busy."

"Yeah. Right. Digging up your precious antiques in Egypt."

"_Artifacts_." Daniel grimaces and sighs. "Don't think you were the only one affected by what happened, Jack."

"Daniel, I--" Jack stands up quickly, knuckles turning white as he grips the desk beneath him. "She was my _wife_."

"She was my _friend_."

"At least I didn't disappear," he hisses.

"What you did is worse than disappearing," he shoots back. "I mean. God, Jack. Have you even talked to her?"

Jack keeps gripping the desk in fear that he might reach across and break his unwelcome guest's nose with his fist.

"That's not Carter in there, no matter what DNA evidence you give me. It's. Not. Carter."

Daniel refuses to back down.

"She's not _your_ Carter, you mean. Because yours died three years ago, along with who you were."

Jack feels his heart sting in his chest as anger boils his gut.

"Is this why you're here? To patronize me?"

"Of course not. That's not what friends do to each other."

Jack clenches his jaw and steadies his burning eyes on the man across from him.

"Friends don't disappear either," Jack murmurs quietly, voice saturated with bitterness.

"This isn't about us, Jack." Daniel leans forward, resting his weight against the desk, matching the fire in Jack's eyes with the steadiness of his own gaze. "You need to go to her."

"Why?" Jack spats. "Like you said. She's not _my Carter_."

Daniel scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief.

"You are such a coward. _Now_ who's disappearing?"

Daniel pushes away and takes several steps backwards, before turning around and walking out of the office.

Out of Jack's life again.

**

Carter is brushing her hair. It's just to her shoulders now, and she recalls hazily that before the first attacks from the Ori had come weeks ago, she had been planning on growing it out.

She wonders what this Sam's hair looked like.

There's a knock on the door and she's simultaneously filled with expectancy and dread.

"Come in."

The heavy door pushes open and a familiar face she never expected to see smiles at her.

"Sam."

"Oh my God. Daniel."

She stands up and approaches him, probably meaning to hug him, but stops short remembering that just like Jack isn't her Jack, Daniel isn't her Daniel.

"I was beginning to think you didn't exist in this reality," she murmurs, more than serious.

Daniel gives her a sad, albeit genuine smile and takes a step towards her. Before her mind can conjure up the millions of questions she'll undoubtedly have, he opens his arms to her and she steps into the first place that feels like home since she's arrived in this reality.

It isn't long before his shoulder is wet with tears.

"I missed you," she confesses, despite the fact that she knows he's not the Daniel she's missed.

"I've missed you, too," he says into her hair, also ignoring all the inconsistencies and irrationalities in that statement.

They finally pull apart and she tries to smile at him, but only more tears flood her eyes and stream down her cheeks. He reaches forward with his thumb and wipes some of them away.

She's not sure how it happens, but they end up sitting on the side of her bed, shoulder to shoulder.

No one's quite sure what to say.

"I'm sorry, for everything you must have gone through," he finally decides on. "I can't even imagine."

"I'm not sure it's completely hit me yet. It hasn't set in."

Daniel nods.

"You've been through a lot. Maybe it's better if it doesn't."

"At least I won't run into any temporal distortion problems," she says, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "That was one of the things I was worried about when using the mirror."

"Because in this reality you're--"

"Yeah," she says, cutting him off, not wanting him to run through the complicated, confusing motions that she herself can barely wrap her mind around.

"Daniel."

He looks at her as she touches his arm.

"He doesn't like this, does he? He doesn't want me here."

"Sam, you have to understand what he went through."

"I don't even know what happened, just that I'm dead in this reality."

Dead to him.

"Yeah. Three years ago, you died saving the planet, Sam," Daniel says, voice cracking.

She won't ask him to elaborate. For a moment she finds it ironic that in this reality she died saving the planet, wherein her reality she fled from one she couldn't save. She pushes away the potential inadequacy issues for the time being. There's far too much to deal with.

"You know you two were married here," he says after a few moments of silence.

She just nods. She doesn't have to say anything else because Daniel looks down and sees no trace of a ring on her finger.

"Just give him time, Sam. He'll come around."

"Yeah," she replies, fumbling with her hands in her lap. "It's Jack. He always does."

But the fact that she doesn't know this Jack O'Neill painfully haunts her.

Daniel hugs her goodbye, promises to return soon, and shuts the door behind him. She lies down on her bed and stares silently at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts until her head begins to hurt from all the complexities and sleep finds her.

**

Jack heads home that night and falls onto his couch, a picture in one hand, a bottle in the other. He tilts his head back and downs beer, tosses the bottle and hears it shatter against the floor in a million pieces that he'll later cut his finger on when he tries to clean up the mess.

As an expletive leaves his mouth and a drop of blood splatters onto the wood floor, he lets himself cry for the first time in three years.


End file.
